It all started a few days ago. I was sitting in the backyard. Having a cigarette. One of those -holding on for dear life- cigarettes, where you know for a fact, if someone ripped it from your hand, you’d give them the smack down just to get it back. The kind where your hand is shaking as you light it. You know what I mean, that is, if you smoke. Which by the way, I wish I didn’t. Yes, I will try quitting again. K , enough of my guilty smokers conscience.
So, it was one of those smoke breaks I was having, and I had my ipod on me, so I thought I’d play some music. Scrolling through the artists I chose Adele’s new album, because it’s friggin’ brilliant.
The moment I heard the piano start, tears just started falling from my face. I was surprised, because I knew I was stressed, but didn’t know I was THAT stressed.
I just turned the music off and sat there.
The hurt pushing forth, cramped inside my chest.
Took a deeper breath, and shoved it all down. Down under my lungs. Swallowing it.
Like most Moms do, when they have a little guy in the next room laughing to The Backyardigins and yelling at you for more milk.
The thing was, as always, it didn’t…. go away.
A few days later, and I still can’t listen to music without crying.
I think of a lot of things when I let myself go, and feel it. Which isn’t until it’s so bad, I have no choice.
I’m such a chick like that, it’s almost embarrassing.
I think about my Grandma.
I think about how scared she is. How sad she is. How she misses me, and tells me all the time, even if I just saw her.
I think about how I’m scared to move forward with God, even though it’s the one thing I want above all else.
I know once I truly say yes, to the gifts and life he’s given me, every thing’s going to change. It’s not a bad thing, just a scary as shit thing. It’s messed up how the best possible thing for us, is the thing we fight the most. Whether or not we’ve been asking for it our entire prayer life.
I think about my friends, who are in pain, and I can’t seem to lift the weight from them, like I want to.
Even though I understand, it’s not in my power or control to do so.
That sometimes I’m too tired to try.
I think about my son.
I think about how much I love him, and pray to God to make me the kind of Mother he needs.
I think about my family, and how hard it is for all of them, to be a constant support for my Grandmother. That most of the time, her dementia, hinders us from reasoning with her, so we can help her.
How I want to do more for her, but, have no idea what to do anymore.
I know I’ll get there again, I just can’t see the path right now.
I think about how, half the time I have no idea what I’m doing. That all I know how to do anymore is…just…pray.
I want to say, I’m on top of all of this, with God.
But I can’t.
The truth is, I’m scared.
I feel little.
I don’t have the answers.
Maybe I’m not supposed to.
Maybe, swimming in this vast ocean of uncertainty, is where I need to be. Again.
Who am I to argue with it.
Because the only things that’s genuinely certain is the love that Jesus has for us.
So, I’ll just stay there.
Hurt or not.
Empty or full.
It’s the truth I have right now and I really don’t want to hold onto anything else.
So, I’ll cry.
I’ll go to bed early and trust God, that the brighter days of truth and remedy are at hand.
Remind myself, that I don’t have to be perfect.
That it’s impossible.
And just float.
Bob around in this sea of the unknown, with safety ruling my heart, because Jesus is holding my hand.